Reichsadler Reprise
by LosingInTranslation
Summary: The BAU is called in by the Secret Service to profile an old case, once thought closed. Rossi/Prentiss Charlie/Zoey
1. Chapter 1

**DATE:** April 2010

**AUTHOR:** LosingInTranslation (losingntrnslatn, Jennifer)  
**DISCLAIMER:** Don't own anything associated with the show… I just like playing with the characters in it from time to time. Dance Monkeys! Dance!  
**RATING:** T - Teen  
**FANDOM:** Crossover Fic between Criminal Minds & The West Wing  
**PAIRING:** CM = General Team & light Prentiss/Rossi - TWW = Charlie/Zoey  
**SPOILERS:** Through US Aired Episodes of Season 5  
**WORD COUNT:** 13,894  
**SUMMARY:** The BAU is called in by the Secret Service to profile an old case, once thought closed.

**DEDICATION:** To Ali for inspiring the story with her generosity. To Carri for getting me totally hooked on TWW again. And to Cheryl and Lisa for putting up with my insanity as I wrote.

**A/N:** This one is almost epic, but the request sort of demanded it. With Darth Real-Life constantly getting in my way, it took me a long time to finish this one. It was written by special request as part of the Help_Haiti LJ Comm.  
**REVIEWS:** Reviews are the way I know if people are enjoying the work or not. So, if you leave one, THANKS! And if not, I hope you found at least a little something to brighten your day, and thanks for taking the time to read.

**REICHSADLER REPRISE**

**CHAPTER ONE**

The only sound to be heard in the darkened office is the rapid, deliberate tapping of the computer keys. Fingers swiftly roam across the keyboard, causing a stream of words to appear on the monitor glowing in the night.

When the man at the desk stops typing to review the words he has just written the room goes silent. With a satisfied sigh, he leans back in his office chair and grabs the coffee mug beside him. The printer spools up as he presses the print button and then lifts the cup to his lips. A single page shoots out of the printer and the man reaches for it as he sets the mug back down on his desk.

Carefully folding the paper and sliding it into the envelope, his rubber gloved hands move with a practiced efficiency. As he presses the self-adhesive stamps to the front of the letter the only witness to his act is the distinctive coffee mug, emblazoned with an official looking seal. At first glance, the seal would be mistaken for some governmental agency, but upon closer inspection the truth is revealed. In the center of the seal is a German eagle clutching a laurelled Swastika; the Reichsadler. The symbol of the Nazi power during the Second World War. A symbol adopted by many nationalist hate groups throughout the world. And this particular version has been used before.

* * *

A voice from the front door calls out through the Brownstone. "Hey! I grabbed the mail on my way in."

Her hands full up with a wriggling infant, Zoey calls back over her shoulder, "Thanks, Ellie! I'll be down in a minute." She quickly snaps the onesie back up and hefts the curly haired, smiling bundle of giggles onto her hip before heading for the stairs.

Looking over the railing, Zoey finds her sister pulling tiny arms out of a coat in the foyer, "I'm so glad you guys could come over. We've been a little lonely the last couple days, and I needed some adult company before I lose it."

"When's Charlie due back from Montreal?" Ellie turns her little one loose before she opens the closet door to stow their coats.

Walking down the stairs, Zoey rolls her eyes. "Not for two more days. Which is total crap, but he insists that laying down the framework for the most important international civil rights law in history is worthy of spending two entire weeks five hundred miles away."

Ellie shakes her head and laughs, "Glad to see motherhood hasn't changed you at all. Still throwing fake hissy fits when you don't get your way." Holding her arms out, she takes the baby when he giggles at the sight of her. "Don't worry, Jack… Mommy only pretends to be a brat."

Zoey's face screws up into a frown, but before she can say anything a streak of light brown curls barrels into her legs. "Auntie Zoey! Auntie Zoey!"

Reaching down, Zoey makes a big show of picking up the little boy. "Ugh! You're getting too big, Eddie. I'm not going to be able to pick you up pretty soon."

"Momma says I can go to big boy school soon." The little boy beams as he speaks to her and Zoey is powerless not to smile back at him.

"Oh my! That's huge! We'll have to go shopping for school supplies together. You're Momma isn't good at shopping, so you and me will have a date for that." The boy kisses her on the cheek and she melts.

"Can I play a game?" And there it is. She was being buttered up for something.

"Okay…" He is already out of her arms and halfway down the hall when she finishes. "Just make sure you don't mess up any of Uncle Charlie's saved games."

His hasty ,"Yes, ma'am, I 'member," leaves both sisters laughing as they move into the parlour to sit down.

At the last minute, Zoey stops at the entry table when something catches her eye. Ellie notices her sister staring at the mail sitting atop the table. "That's your mail. I grabbed it from the box on my way in."

When Zoey fails to respond, Ellie shifts the baby to her other hip and asks, "Zoey? What is it?" Without a response, Ellie walks up to her sister and looks back on the table to see what the problem is. The mostly non-descript envelopes are splayed out on the table where she dropped them, but the one causing her sister's sudden paralysis is plainly evident.

Ellie quickly pulls her phone from her pocket and juggles the baby as she scans her contact list for the right number. The phone rings several times as she stares at the tell-tale eagle clutching a Swastika and the words, "To: The Mud Loving Whore."

A voice on the other end of the phone cuts through her horror and Ellie simply asks, "May I speak with Director Toscano, please?"


	2. Chapter 2

**DATE:** April 2010

**AUTHOR:** LosingInTranslation (losingntrnslatn, Jennifer)  
**DISCLAIMER:** Don't own anything associated with the show… I just like playing with the characters in it from time to time. Dance Monkeys! Dance!  
**RATING:** T - Teen  
**FANDOM:** Crossover Fic between Criminal Minds & The West Wing  
**PAIRING:** CM = General Team & light Prentiss/Rossi - TWW = Charlie/Zoey  
**SPOILERS:** Through US Aired Episodes of Season 5  
**WORD COUNT:** 13,894  
**SUMMARY:** The BAU is called in by the Secret Service to profile an old case, once thought closed.

**DEDICATION:** To Ali for inspiring the story with her generosity. To Carri for getting me totally hooked on TWW again. And to Cheryl and Lisa for putting up with my insanity as I wrote.

**A/N:** This one is almost epic, but the request sort of demanded it. With Darth Real-Life constantly getting in my way, it took me a long time to finish this one. It was written by special request as part of the Help_Haiti LJ Comm.  
**REVIEWS:** Reviews are the way I know if people are enjoying the work or not. So, if you leave one, THANKS! And if not, I hope you found at least a little something to brighten your day, and thanks for taking the time to read.

**CHAPTER TWO**

He has been staring at the same case summary for ten minutes and he still finds it hard to take it all in. He has seen the case file before, but it still does not make sense. The voice of the woman responsible for bringing the file pulls him out of his thoughts as she tries to explain her presence. "Look, officially, my hands are tied."

Agent Hotchner shakes his head to show his understanding. "Of course, after Congress enacted Public Law 103-329, protection details for the families stop once the president leaves office and they are over the age of sixteen."

"Right… So, while my office is still in charge of protecting President Bartlet and his wife for the next six years, his daughters are not part of that detail." She hands him another folder, this one bearing an F.B.I. seal. "The girls called me, because I was part of the original case. Because they know me, and because they're scared. I want to help them, but like I said…"

"Your hands are tied." He taps the folder with his pen. "So, am I getting this information officially, or unofficially?"

She hands him an official looking envelope and when he sees the seal of the president on it he knows this is serious. "By executive order the president, I am turning over the complete case file for the attempted assassination of President Josiah Bartlet."

Hotch nods. He knows the case well. The BAU was tapped to profile the unknown group responsible for the threats being made against President Bartlet's youngest daughter and her boyfriend. While he was not personally involved in the case, the BAU had given recommendations based on that profile which eventually led to the discovery and capture of the spotter, but not before the group acted on their threats, leaving numerous people severely injured, including the president. Even with the quick capture and successful prosecution of the spotter and two other members of the West Virginia White Pride organization, the profilers considered it a failure on their part. Their profile was ultimately incorrect, and a lot of people suffered for it.

"So, this is an official request to investigate an officially closed case…unofficially." Hotch knows the party line better than anyone. "But why are you bringing this," he holds up the executive order, "to me?"

"That's a little more complicated." Hotch smiles, because he knows that problem all too well. "First and foremost, your director and I don't exactly have a great history of working well together."

Hotch rolls his eyes at her admission, "That is a club with a rather large membership, Director Toscano."

"Yeah, well, I'm also bringing this to you because the BAU was involved in the original case and I knew you'd want to finish it right this time." She seems to have an inside track on his unit and that leaves Hotch wondering how, and why. "This one left a bad taste in a lot of people's mouths. And I was one of them."

"Oh right…" Hotch flips open the case file again and scans it for the agents of record and that is when he finally sees it. "My apologies, Director Toscana. The BAU has done a great many profiles for the Secret Service since this case, so it's hard to remember each of the parties involved. You were part of the First Family Detail, is that correct?"

She nods; her hair is tied back and tight, much different from the youthful agent Hotch remembers from the media coverage. "I was assigned as Zoey Bartlet's personal agent. She was my detail."

"Then you did your job, Director. Your assignment was completely unharmed and you ID'd the shooters for elimination." Hotch gives her the same speech he has given to countless agents, even though he knows how useless it is. If a person feels as though they have failed, no amount of kind words and pointless platitudes will change that perception.

"And yet, that doesn't seem to make a bit of difference." The weight of that knowledge is visible in her eyes. "I still run this case through my head and try to figure out where we missed the clues, how we could have stopped them before all of those people got hurt, how we failed to protect the president from a stray bullet meant for a kid who was only standing up for his right to care about another human being."

"We all have those cases, Ma'am." He closes the file and stands up from behind the desk. Walking around with his hand outstretched, he declares, "I will present this to my team."

The director rises to meet him when the door to the office swings open. "J.J. said you needed to see me." Rossi stops in mid-stride when he looks up to find the woman in Hotch's office. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had comp-" When Director Toscano turns to face Dave, Hotch watches as his colleague's face transforms into shock. "Gina?"

Dave's face softens from shock and confusion into recognition and…pride? "Gina, why didn't you tell me you were coming by?"

Breaking out with a broad smile, Dave steps forward and wraps Director Toscano up in a very familiar hug, a hug she returns with just as much familiarity. Hotch is the one confused this time, but he is forced to wait for his answer.

"Well…" She takes a deep breath and gives him the truth. "I'm here to bring an old case back to the BAU." Hotch can actually see the understanding fall across Dave's face, and apparently Director Toscano can read his expression as well. "Yeah, the Rosslyn case."

His arms drop to his sides and Dave shakes his head. "What happened?"

"A new threat was delivered to Zoey a couple days ago…" She pauses to give impact to the information. "To her home in Georgetown."

"How do we know it's the same group?" Dave immediately switches over to his profiler mode.

"They're using the same seal, but it's more than that." Dave scrutinizes the woman's face as she tells him the news. "Linguistics confirmed it yesterday…it's the same writer."

"Damn." Hotch's suspicions are confirmed as he witnesses Dave going instantly back into the case. He had always wondered if their failure to earmark a group soon enough to prevent the attack was the real impetus behind David Rossi's early retirement. It was Dave's last case at the BAU, and Hotch had felt like it was his final test for making the retirement decision. If things had been different in Rosslyn, would Dave have ever left the BAU? And now, it was looking like their original profile might not have been as far off as they believed at the time.

"I can't officially do anything about the case now, but I would really appreciate being kept in the loop." Director Toscano looks at Hotch as she speaks, but it is Dave who answers for them. "Of course, Gina. This case was yours and I know how you feel about it."

"As soon as we have something, you'll be our first phone call." Hotch picks up the folder from his desk, hands it to Dave, and then shakes the director's hand. "In the meantime, how are we to handle protection for Ms. Bartlet?"

The director nods and takes on an official air as she explains, "Because of the possible mail fraud, and a direct threat on a member of President Santos' staff, the Postmaster General and the President have made formal requests to assign a protection detail to _Mrs. Young_ and her family."

Dave's face betrays his confusion when he asks, "Mrs. Young? Wait, she married the kid from the Rosslyn case?" Toscano smiles and Dave seems amused by this information. "Okay then…but who's working for the president?"

"That would be 'the kid,' Senior Deputy Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Staff Charles Young." Hotch muses to himself over the ridiculous titles that have become such a mainstay of government life. After all, each member of his team is introduced almost daily as Supervisory Special Agent this or that. His amusement must have shown on his face. "Yeah, I know. The titles have gotten out of control again. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get 'Regina J. Toscano - Deputy Assistant Director of the Office of Protective Operations, United States Secret Service, Department of Homeland Security' on a business card?"

"A little like trying to get "SSA Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief, Behavioral Analysis Unit, Federal Bureau of Investigation, United States Department of Justice.'" They all laugh at the insanity of it all.

Dave picks up his questioning by asking, "So, if your Secret Service guys are providing protection, there shouldn't be any trouble with inter-agency communication?"

Gina shrugs non-committally, "If it were only up to my boss and your big boss, I would say yes… But we have a problem."

Simultaneously, Dave and Gina both say the name like a curse, "Erin Strauss."

Hotch knows that Strauss is an ambitious woman and his problems with her stem from more than his headstrong and independent leadership style, but also because that reputation puts him in direct competition with her desire to advance in the Bureau. But he has never understood why she has such an intense dislike for Dave.

Pointing at the envelope bearing the official seal of the president, Gina concludes, "That's the only guarantee I can give you with this case. I only hope it's enough to keep the wolf at bay."

Dave nods and shrugs, "Maybe having me on the first case will be enough justification for the Deputy Director to override any impediments she might try to put in our way. That, and…" His pause is punctuated by the raise of his brow.

"And what else?" Gina is far too quick in catching Dave's cue not to make Hotch suspect there is a great deal more between these two.

"The fact that he still owes me a new duck blind after our last hunting trip together probably doesn't hurt either." Dave's smile is warm and comfortable, with the corners of his eyes creasing gently together. Now Hotch is sure he has been had.

Gina shakes her head as she picks up her coat and walks to the door. Stopping to turn back she says, "Well, good luck with the Deputy Director, and with Strauss. I know she doesn't seem to have much use for us military types, but I've never gotten why she has such an axe to grind with you, Uncle Dave."

Hotch stands in shock as Dave waves the woman out the door with his parting remarks. "Take care of yourself, kid. And don't forget about our poker game this time."

When Dave turns back to him he can only repeat the name as a question, "_Uncle_ Dave?" But Dave only smiles and takes the folder with him as he leaves Hotch's office, chuckling to himself.

Once again, just for his own benefit, Hotch shrugs and says, "Uncle Dave."


	3. Chapter 3

**DATE:** April 2010

**AUTHOR:** LosingInTranslation (losingntrnslatn, Jennifer)  
**DISCLAIMER:** Don't own anything associated with the show… I just like playing with the characters in it from time to time. Dance Monkeys! Dance!  
**RATING:** T - Teen  
**FANDOM:** Crossover Fic between Criminal Minds & The West Wing  
**PAIRING:** CM = General Team & light Prentiss/Rossi - TWW = Charlie/Zoey  
**SPOILERS:** Through US Aired Episodes of Season 5  
**WORD COUNT:** 13,894  
**SUMMARY:** The BAU is called in by the Secret Service to profile an old case, once thought closed.

**DEDICATION:** To Ali for inspiring the story with her generosity. To Carri for getting me totally hooked on TWW again. And to Cheryl and Lisa for putting up with my insanity as I wrote.

**A/N:** This one is almost epic, but the request sort of demanded it. With Darth Real-Life constantly getting in my way, it took me a long time to finish this one. It was written by special request as part of the Help_Haiti LJ Comm.  
**REVIEWS:** Reviews are the way I know if people are enjoying the work or not. So, if you leave one, THANKS! And if not, I hope you found at least a little something to brighten your day, and thanks for taking the time to read.

**CHAPTER THREE**  
"In March of 2000 the BAU was contacted by the Secret Service to profile a potential threat to the youngest daughter of then President Bartlet. Based on the content of the letters she was receiving, it was determined by the Secret Service that the threat was viable and the Protection Service took appropriate actions to limit the danger." Hotch drones through the briefing with all of the facts in a way that only Hotch could. Many times J.J. wished he would just allow her to present all the cases, but the ones that came from _official channels_ were not available to her. "However, they were not in a position to root out the source of this threat with their limited resources at the time, and enlisted our assistance in getting a lead on the threat."

Rossi picks up the remote for the screen and continues the briefing. "The letters were all written by the same person using a standard ink jet printer. They all contained an element of racial hatred being directed at Zoey Bartlet and her relationship with the presidential aide, Charles Young, a black man." He scrolls through the screens depicting each person involved and then brought the first letter up into view. "As you can see here, they also contained a distinctive seal; the Reichsadler."

Processing the information as it is relayed to the team Spencer interrupts, "A German eagle clutching a laurelled Swastika in its talons; the Nazi Reichsadler. Though, this symbol has been used dating all the way back to the Holy Roman Empire in the twelfth century, and used again in the German Empire from 1888 to 1918, as well as the Weimar Republic, immediately preceding the Nazi Party's takeover of the German government in 1935. And a double headed version of the same German eagle was used in the coat of arms for the Austrian Empire from 1804 to 1867."

From the heat in his glare, J.J. can tell that Rossi is not interested in one of Spencer's history lessons. His words confirm his frustration. "And none of that is pertinent to the case at hand." Spencer shrinks away from Rossi's glare as the rest of the team shakes their heads. "As I was saying… This seal was present on each of the letters intercepted by the Secret Service. Once it was determined there was a real threat, they did some preliminary investigation, which eventually led them to look at the West Virginia White Pride. This was one of the countless skinhead groups littering the impoverished areas of the country in 2000."

Rossi clicked the remote revealing a map showing hundreds of dots in the Mid-Atlantic region alone. "Narrowing it down to any single group was a feat in and of itself at the time. Thanks to the work of analysts like Garcia, that is no longer the case."

"Right, we've set up a sniffer program that tracks the activity of any variety of extremist groups all over the world based on their net traffic and digital transactions. It's almost impossible for these kinds of groups to grow and prosper without Big Brother getting a whiff of their foul stench." Garcia's pride bleeds through in her schpeel as she confirms Rossi's statement.

Hotch steps back into view and picks up from there. "Our unit was not involved in the investigation itself. We only profiled the unsub based on the written threats being made. We determined that this was a racially motivated action, but that the specific person responsible for making the threats was likely working alone, and possibly working under the delusion that he was in some position to assert a moral judgment over Ms. Bartlet's life. While we suspected that this person was involved with a White Supremacist group, and pointed the Secret Service at the groups we believed he could be a member of, ultimately we were not completely accurate in our analysis and a loosely organized attempt was made on the life of Ms. Bartlet's boyfriend, thereby injuring President Bartlet, a member of his staff, a Secret Service Agent and a bystander in the crowd."

Morgan shakes his head and sighs, "Rosslyn."

"I read the follow-up on that case when I was in St. Louis. It was crazy. They used all the wrong weapons, so they completely missed their target and nearly took out three other people in the melee, leaving themselves totally open to the snipers. Never underestimate the stupidity of kids raised on hate and violence." Emily adds in her own analysis on the case.

"Exactly." Hotch scans through the rest of the case file images. "After the shooting, we helped the Secret Service and local authorities to locate and apprehend the spotter IDed by one of the protection agents on the scene. We also assisted in locating other members of the West Virginia White Pride in order to prosecute all the parties involved in the assassination attempt."

"And the reason we're getting all this information now?" Spencer is quick to ask his question.

"A new letter was delivered to the Young household in Georgetown yesterday afternoon." Hotch's answer confuses them.

Garcia is the first to ask, "The aide? They're still after the aide?"

Instead of Hotch answering, Emily speaks up, "Yeah, Zoey Bartlet and Charles Young got married a few years ago." Everyone stares at Emily trying to figure out how she knows something like that. "What? My mother was in town for the wedding. Her family and the Bartlets have known each other for like a couple centuries."

Morgan tosses a, "Figures," in Emily's direction before he asks, "Okay, since there's a new letter, are we to assume they've already checked out the original suspects?"

"Yes." As always, Hotch is all business and quickly dismisses the more familiar conversation. "Two of the suspects are serving out life sentences in the U.S. Penitentiary Florence ADMAX Facility in Colorado and the third was killed in a conflict between the Aryan Brotherhood and one of the other gangs while serving his sentence at the Red Onion State Prison in Pound, Virginia."

"Why was he being held there?"

Everyone is making notes as Hotch answers their questions. "Special deal made with the U.S. Attorney that allowed him to serve a lesser sentence at a Virginia Supermax so that his dying mother could visit him in exchange for his testimony against the other two."

"So, this _West Virginia White Pride_, what's their current status?" Prentiss rolls her eyes with her question.

"They don't have one." Hotch is quick and to the point, just like always. "They were completely routed by the investigation and prosecution of the case."

"The original profile, did it include anything else in regards to a single person theory? I mean, was there ever an option put forth that this whole thing was the work of a single individual?" Derek looks through the folder in front of him as he questions Hotch. Looking around the table, J.J. can tell they are off at the races with the case, each one trying to get a firm grip on what needs to be done.

Hotch immediately launches into the party line, "With the information available at the time, and given the time involved with our preliminary analysis, as well as the accelerated nature of the investigation and capture of the spotter-"

"We considered it, but given the nature of the threats being made, it was thought to be an improbable scenario." Rossi let slip the unspoken truth, confirming the suspicions of everyone there.

J.J. decides to end any of the doubt with her question, "You were on the original case?"

Rossi nods solemnly with his answer. "Yes. It was my last case with the BAU. As a favor to the Secret Service, I worked the case."

"Did your analysis include a profile of the writer?" Emily quickly throws him a lifeline.

"It did," Rossi pauses to thank her with his eyes, and then he forges ahead. "But it proved inconsequential for apprehending the suspects, and did nothing to prevent the attack in the first place."

Hotch picks up the life-saver mantle when he continues. "I think, for the purposes of this investigation, we should throw out the previous profiles. No offense to anyone on the original case, but we're dealing with an entirely different animal now, and the current information tells us a great deal more about the unsub than the original case allowed us to know." The screen changes to show the letter as Hotch presses the remote. "This letter changes everything. So, let's just start fresh."

Spencer's gaze is transfixed on the screen as J.J. turns to him. "What is it?"

"Hotch, can you bring up one of the letters from the first case and split screen them?" Spencer begins to look through the file as he calls out his request to Hotch.

"Yeah…" Hotch does as requested. "What do you see, Reid?"

"The Secret Service's comparative linguistics report says that these are most likely written by the same person, but there's something else." Spencer looks to his left. "Garcia, do you have digital transcripts of each letter?"

"I do, but there's like thirty letters on their highly suspected list and more than hundred others tied to the same investigation." Garcia starts to click keys on her laptop as she answers Spencer.

"Can you run a search for similar word usage and phrasing?"

"Mon Ami, I can do that and a little more." Her fingers are flying over the keyboard as Spencer walks to the screen on the wall. "Kevin has been working on this new comparative linguistics program that can actually pull out an eighty-eight percent accuracy match to the author even when there are thousands of pages. The only trouble is that it requires a significant known writing sample to run the comparison. He's still working some of the kinks out, but if we take the current letter and use it as our known sample, we can compare it to the previous samples on a case by case basis and determine the likelihood that they've been written by the same person."

"The final threat before the assassination and this new letter are most definitely written by the same person. And it's not just the language, it's the syntax and grammar. But there's a problem…" Spencer glances quickly, back and forth between the two letters trying to qualify his analysis.

"What problem?" Rossi is on his feet and standing beside Spencer by the time he speaks.

"It's, ah… Well, it's almost like the writer is deliberately trying to portray themselves as an angry, uneducated young person. See here," Spencer points at the same phrase found in both letters. "'Your not gonna get away with polluting our blood.' It's colloquial, but at the same time, it's grammatically correct, betraying an education in formal writing. And the use of 'your' in place of 'you are' or the contraction 'you're,' but other places in the letter they use the correct form."

"That's not always an indicator of deliberate action. Many people get those confused." Rossi is trying to counterpoint Spencer's argument.

"Right, but the use of contractions only occurs with an incorrect usage, and nowhere are there any correctly utilized contractions to truly denote untrained and informal writing." Rossi scans both letters as Spencer goes through his analysis. "Garcia, are you finding matches?"

Nodding her head with a dumbfounded look on her face, "Um, yeah, but ah, I didn't sort out the letters directly associated with the case, I let the linguistics sniffer program sort out the whole Zoey Bartlet file and it's coming up with unrelated matches." Garcia looks up from her screen in shock. "Like… a lot of matches."

"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of." Spencer hangs his head with the acknowledgement.

"Reid, I've already got close to six hundred letters matching the same patterns. And they all have different names associated with them, including women and fan mail, not just the evil stuff." Garcia's shock transfers to everyone else in the room.

Rossi continues to stare at the screen, seeming to completely ignore Garcia until Emily speaks up. "Garcia, what about the love letters?" Everyone turns to Emily in an instant.

"Yeah, there's quite a few actually, but there are different postmarks and signatures and…" Garcia stops mid-sentence and then looks as though a light has gone off over her head. "You sneaky little freakazoid!"

"What is it?" Hotch quickly questions her outburst.

"The postmarks… They're all fake!" Garcia uses her laptop to take over the view screen and points for everyone to notice. "Take a look. Each one was made with the exact same bar-code at the bottom. So, while the postmark is different, the post office wouldn't notice because their routing is done with those handy dandy little bar-codes. They were all printed off of the same printer, because you can see the same print drum mark on each one." She zooms in on the postmarks of six different letters and there is a single line of ink marring the edge of the counterfeit postmark.

Shaking his head, Hotch pulls out his phone. "Congratulations, Garcia." He walks just out of range and begins talking into his phone.

"What? What did I do?" Garcia looks around frantically.

"Nothing…" J.J. shakes her head as well. "You just made this more of a federal case… Now it's a confirmed case of mail fraud, so Hotch has to inform the Postmaster General."

"Shnikeys! I was just following the clues, honest." Garcia pulls her hands away from the keys as though she has just touched a hot stove.

"It's an important thing to know, Penelope, because it totally changes our profile." Emily stands up and moves to sit next to Garcia. Gesturing for her permission she turns the computer to her view. "See, we're no longer dealing with a disorganized group of angry kids, and we're not dealing with a delusional fan."

"No, we're dealing with something far more insidious than that." Rossi drops down into his seat again.

"Then what are we dealing with, if not the white supremacists?" As evidenced by J.J.'s question, Garcia is not the only one having trouble following the team's train of thought.

"J.J., we're definitely not talking about any kind of hate group." Prentiss interjects to translate their conclusions for her. "We've got a seriously obsessed stalker here. Based on the content of the threats, the level of deceit they've gone to in hiding their actions, and given that they've also professed concern and affection for the target, it would appear that they've got some kind of twisted morality based sense of being a guardian angel for this girl."

"So, an erotomanic, then?" J.J. may not be a qualified profiler, but she does know her unit and her understanding goes a lot further than press briefings and soothing ruffled feathers in the local law enforcement communities.

Reid considers her question for a moment as he lays the side of his index finger over his lips. "That's certainly a possibility…but I'm leaning more towards someone falling into the _Love Obsessional_ category."

Hotch continues to handle the business of the case as everything sinks in for the entire team. With a lull in the conversation, J.J. decides that she can finally slip out of the room. Standing up, she nods and says, "You guys obviously have a lot to sort through, so, I'm going to leave you to it and start monitoring channels to make sure the press isn't catching wind of it, yet."

Before she makes her escape, Hotch stops her when he closes up his call. "Hold on, J.J." He reaches for the victim profile and hands it to her. "We're going to need you to act as a liaison with the target on this one."

J.J.'s face involuntarily scrunches up into a question. "I don't understand."

"Our target is intimately familiar with the press, and it's only a matter of time before they figure out something is up. She's also very resistant to the idea of being stuck in a protection detail and she's going to need some hand holding." He gestures at the file for her to open it. "And she's a new mother. Quite frankly, we need someone who can connect with her and keep her from doing anything foolish while we work the investigation."

"You want me to babysit the daughter of a former president to keep her out of trouble?" Her face no longer shows confusion. It is replaced by incredulity.

"No, I need you to help the target understand what we're doing, and help us understand her better." Hotch struggles to explain her role in the case.

Rossi picks up for Hotch when he adds, "And we need someone who can communicate with a woman who has lived her life in the public eye, so that we can try to understand exactly when this person started their campaign to, quote, unquote, save her from her destructive lack of morality." Rossi looks pensively for a moment before he continues. "We need you to develop a rapport with this woman, and help Prentiss question her without having her go off half-cocked to confront this stalker."

"Me?" Prentiss is surprised by Rossi's suggestion.

"Can you think of anyone else in all of the F.B.I. better qualified to debrief the daughter of a former president than someone who literally grew up behind the curtain of the State Department?" Rossi's point is valid and not only does J.J. know it, she can see the acceptance on Emily's face as well. "Not to mention the fact that your families have 'known each other for like a couple centuries.'"

The smug look on Rossi's face is immediately met with a heated glare from Emily. She obviously does not appreciate his low blow.


	4. Chapter 4

**DATE:** April 2010

**AUTHOR:** LosingInTranslation (losingntrnslatn, Jennifer)  
**DISCLAIMER:** Don't own anything associated with the show… I just like playing with the characters in it from time to time. Dance Monkeys! Dance!  
**RATING:** T - Teen  
**FANDOM:** Crossover Fic between Criminal Minds & The West Wing  
**PAIRING:** CM = General Team & light Prentiss/Rossi - TWW = Charlie/Zoey  
**SPOILERS:** Through US Aired Episodes of Season 5  
**WORD COUNT:** 13,894  
**SUMMARY:** The BAU is called in by the Secret Service to profile an old case, once thought closed.

**DEDICATION:** To Ali for inspiring the story with her generosity. To Carri for getting me totally hooked on TWW again. And to Cheryl and Lisa for putting up with my insanity as I wrote.

**A/N:** This one is almost epic, but the request sort of demanded it. With Darth Real-Life constantly getting in my way, it took me a long time to finish this one. It was written by special request as part of the Help_Haiti LJ Comm.  
**REVIEWS:** Reviews are the way I know if people are enjoying the work or not. So, if you leave one, THANKS! And if not, I hope you found at least a little something to brighten your day, and thanks for taking the time to read.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Emily felt like an unwelcome guest from the moment they walked in the door. Though not an uncommon feeling for her as an F.B.I. agent, it is the first time she has ever been on the other side of a coin she has experienced, first hand. As the daughter of an ambassador and legal attaché for the U.S. State Department, Emily Prentiss knows exactly what Zoey Bartlet-Young is going through.

Her mother and father were the frequent recipients of credible threats throughout her lifetime. Many were the times various security agents were advising her parents about yet another threat. And just like Zoey, there were also several actual attempts on their lives. She still believes her father's early stroke was a direct result of the stress and strain of their lives in the State Department.

Bringing herself back into the moment, Emily busies herself surveying their surroundings while Hotch runs down the facts of the case, as they knew them. For all intents and purposes, it is just like every other Georgetown townhome. The width is narrow, the floors a highly polished hardwood, cornices and moldings are plentiful and tastefully displayed. The tall ceilings and black walnut banisters can practically be found inside every house in the Northwest part of the District. The delicate balance of Early American antiques and soft modern furniture is what gives this townhome a distinctive feeling. And the contrasting blend of Herbes de Provence and baby powder tells her this is the home of a new mother from the modern breed.

Emily is drawn out of her observations when Mrs. Young voices her disbelief with a little more passion.

"I just don't understand how you people could have missed all of this. I mean, isn't this what you're trained to do? Figuring out the sick twisted minds of the maniacs **_before_** they hurt people?"

"That's what we strive for, Mrs. Young. But when we're faced with such a highly organized unsub, especially one who has hidden away from sight for such long a time, it's more about identifying and protecting their targets as we learn what makes them tick." J.J. is the best at her job, putting on just the right spin, even in the most difficult cases.

"So, what, you plan to use me as bait for this nut job? Are you crazy?" Mrs. Young's voice reaches another decibel level.

"That's not what she's saying, Zoey." Director Toscano steps in to diffuse the young woman's anger. "But this is not a typical case. It has a level of sophistication that none of us could have anticipated. So, it'll require a unique set of tactics."

"Well, you people can strategize all you want, but I am not about to put my son in danger to help you do what should have been done almost ten years ago!" Her anger is ramping up and Emily understands exactly what her frustrations are, and she knows it is time for her to step into the fray.

"Mrs. Young, no one is asking you to put anyone in harm's way." Emily sits forward on the couch and puts her case file on the coffee table in front of her. "We're asking you to allow us to complete a full profile of this case, with your assistance, while the Secret Service and the F.B.I. protect you and your family from this threat until we can figure out exactly where it's coming from. But we need you in order to do that. You know this person, even if you can't see it yet."

That gets her attention and she locks eyes with Emily. "That's not possible."

"I know it seems that way, but this person has intimate knowledge of your family, your personal and professional lives, and your habits. This person is connected to you, or your family, in some way." Emily knows that Hotch wanted to keep that information to themselves for a while longer, but she also knows if they want to find out who that person is, it means they have to get Mrs. Young's help. And to get that, they need her trust.

"It could be as simple as a gardener, or a piano teacher, or a tutor. Or…" Looking at Hotch, she sees his disapproval glaring at her, but she still chooses to forge ahead. "Or it could be someone close to you, like a friend or family member."

"Now I know you're crazy!" Mrs. Young jumps to her feet and flails her arms in the air. "There is absolutely **NO WAY** anyone in my family would **_ever_** do something like this!"

"That may be true…but as profilers, we have to look at all of the possibilities to find the truth. That's where we failed ten years ago." And there is the bombshell. Emily would never dare say it with Rossi around, but the truth everyone kept in their hearts is out there now. As she turns to look at Hotch and J.J., she can see the confirmation in their faces. However, she finds something else entirely in Director Toscano's face. In her eyes she sees guilt and shame, and it makes Emily regret her admission for a moment.

"But you caught them before…" Mrs. Young looks between Hotch and Director Toscano before dropping back down to the couch. "And Gina spotted them before the shots started, because of the profile back then, so I don't understand."

Emily can feel the pain in Zoey's words and it makes her pause. Before she can speak again, Director Toscano answers. "She's right, Zoey. We found a likely target and never widened our search. We were so focused on the hate crime angle, it never dawned on us back then that the skinheads were nothing more than hired thugs."

Hotch steps up to take some of the heat away from the situation. "There are also the technological advances we've made in forensic linguistics in the last ten years. Ten years ago, the letters were read by behavioral analysis students and flagged for the attention of a specialized group of Secret Service agents, and then by the agents in charge of specific protection details to determine their credible danger."

"And now?"

J.J., sitting next to the young woman, takes out a report detailing the key phrases found in the hundreds of letters flagged by the comparative linguists program Garcia has been using on this case. "We have software that scans through the transcripts of each letter for word usage, syntax and grammatical pattern similarities. We now have the capability to scan thousands of transcribed letters in a single day, which would have taken months in the past."

"And you found matches in more than just the hate mail for me and Charlie?" Her eyes, betraying her shock at such a revelation, also hold a depth of sadness that surprises Emily.

"Yes…" Hotch brings out another report, detailing the dates and addressees of each letter matching the one Mrs. Young received the day before. "Six hundred seventy-two letters and post cards during the time of your father's presidency, and we have technicians in Manchester going through the archives from his time in the Governor's mansion. If we can determine a timeline for when these letters began, we might be able to help narrow down the suspect pool."

Her eyes are glued to the page as the information sinks in. "That's…that's just… My God. The level of obsession something like that would take…"

"In a typical case, we refer to this kind of unsub as an erotomanic, but given the level of organization, and their ability to avoid detection, forces us to revise that classification." J.J. tries to explain the team's conclusions to the young woman, but Emily can see that nothing is going to get through until she can digest what she has already been hit with.

When J.J. attempts to maintain eye contact with the woman, they are interrupted as the front door is thrown open and a voice bellows throughout the house. "ZOEY!"

In a flash of movement, Mrs. Young is off the couch and flying through the room. As she reaches the doorway she is enveloped in the arms of her worried husband. "Zoey, are you okay? Where's Jack? I got here as fast as I could. Why didn't you call me?" His questions spill out in a stream, without regard to any answer. Emily can tell his words have probably been cycling through his brain for a while. "What happened?"

When no one answers his last question, he speaks again, but in an angry voice this time. "What the hell happened?!"

Hotch tries to bring things down a few notches before they explain the case to the young man. "Mr. Young, perhaps you'd like a few moments to collect yours-"

"Forget that! What happened and what the hell do you plan to do to protect my family?" The man's anger is seething from every pore in his body.

"Charlie, you need to get a hold of yourself. We're here to help." Director Toscano puts her hat into the ring, hoping to calm him down.

"I don't want to hear it, Gina. You told us it was over. You said your investigation was thorough and there were no loose ends. I was standing right there when you told Zoey's father it was over." Mr. Young holds his wife a little tighter before his anger explodes. "And there I am sitting in a hotel in Montreal when I get a damn phone call, A PHONE CALL from some low level flunkie saying my family has been threatened, but I shouldn't worry because you've got it under control?"

Director Toscano desperately tries to calm the angry young man. "Charlie, I know you're upset right now, but-"

"Upset? Upset?! Look, I don't know what you folks over in the Secret Service are smoking these days, but you obviously need to knock it off and rejoin us here on Planet Pissed the Hell OFF!"

* * *

There was no point trying to continue the interview after Mr. Young arrived. Both of them were far too worked up for anything to get through. Director Toscano drew the short straw and was busy working to calm the couple down.

"It's gonna be a while before they're ready for any more." J.J. looks over her shoulder in the direction of the parlour. "If he's anything like Will, it could be a long while."

"It's not easy when your family is in jeopardy and you feel powerless to protect them." She could feel the pain in Hotch's words. And the look she finds on J.J.'s face tells Emily she can feel it, too.

In an attempt to throw the focus off of Hotch, J.J. asks Emily a question. "Emily, did you really mean that? Does the profile actually point to the possibility of a family member?"

"It's a longshot, but at this point we really don't want to discount anything." Begrudgingly, Emily confirms the most difficult aspect of the profile. "Whoever it is knows this woman's life with an intimate detail reserved for very few people."

"Emily's right. This person has access to information available only to a select group. When we finally reveal the unsub, it's going to be a real shock…" Hotch's face turns into a perfect stone when he concludes, "To everyone involved."


	5. Chapter 5

**DATE:** April 2010

**AUTHOR:** LosingInTranslation (losingntrnslatn, Jennifer)  
**DISCLAIMER:** Don't own anything associated with the show… I just like playing with the characters in it from time to time. Dance Monkeys! Dance!  
**RATING:** T - Teen  
**FANDOM:** Crossover Fic between Criminal Minds & The West Wing  
**PAIRING:** CM = General Team & light Prentiss/Rossi - TWW = Charlie/Zoey  
**SPOILERS:** Through US Aired Episodes of Season 5  
**WORD COUNT:** 13,894  
**SUMMARY:** The BAU is called in by the Secret Service to profile an old case, once thought closed.

**DEDICATION:** To Ali for inspiring the story with her generosity. To Carri for getting me totally hooked on TWW again. And to Cheryl and Lisa for putting up with my insanity as I wrote.

**A/N:** This one is almost epic, but the request sort of demanded it. With Darth Real-Life constantly getting in my way, it took me a long time to finish this one. It was written by special request as part of the Help_Haiti LJ Comm.  
**REVIEWS:** Reviews are the way I know if people are enjoying the work or not. So, if you leave one, THANKS! And if not, I hope you found at least a little something to brighten your day, and thanks for taking the time to read.

**CHAPTER FIVE**

The images playing out in her head as she slept drag her back to consciousness, but her wandering hand fails to find the comfort Zoey is seeking. Instead, there are only cold sheets beside her. Raising her head, she tries to focus in the darkened room. The only illumination she finds is the arch of lights on the baby monitor; first one and then two, in the slow and steady pattern of Jack's breathing. The comfort she takes in that fact turns the corner of her mouth up.

Sitting up the rest of the way, she turns to look around, hoping to find Charlie lurking in the darkness. The chair at the window is empty, and the blinds are still closed. Zoey sighs as she throws off the duvet and toes around for her slippers. The chill in the air has her reaching for the heavy terry robe on the chest at the end of the bed as she moves around it in search of her missing husband.

At the doorway, she looks down the hall to find the bathroom dark, and a look in the other direction only hints at the soft nightlight in the nursery. Pulling the robe closed and tying it off, Zoey peers over the railing, hoping to find Charlie's office light on, but it was just as dark as the rest of the house. With a deep sigh, Zoey resigns herself to going downstairs.

Stepping onto the landing, she peers around the corner and finds nothing but darkness. Zoey begins to worry that Charlie has gone when she hears the squeaky hinge on her grandmother's china cabinet. Softly, she pads through the house to the dining room as she follows the sound.

The muted light from the kitchen filters into the dining room, allowing her to make out the silhouette of her husband at the back of the room. His back is to her as he only stares into the antique china cabinet. Even without being able to see it, Zoey knows what Charlie is looking at when she comes to stand behind him.

Gently, she lays a soft touch to middle of his back. "Charlie?"

His gaze never falters, but his sigh tells her that he knows she is there. "You know…when he gave me this, I-I thought he was crazy." Zoey peers over his shoulder to see the carving knife box resting in the same dead center spot it had since the day after they were married. That knife means a great deal to her husband, and it is one of the many things she loves about him.

She knows the story of the knife almost as though she had been standing with Charlie when it happened. But, she only rests her head on his shoulder blade and wraps her arms around his waist as Charlie begins to the recite the story once more.

"The bolster is fully tapered, so you can sharpen the entire edge of the blade." She can feel his arm move and Zoey knows he is tracing the signature marking. "It was made for your family by Paul Revere. A silver carving knife made by a Colonial father and famous silversmith and he just hands it to me like it was another one of the knives I'd been parading in front of him for weeks."

Zoey chuffs at his shock. "He's always been like that. Makes a huge deal out of not taking math classes, and then brusquely tells you congratulations for graduating with honors or giving him a grandson. It's just Dad."

"Yeah, I know…" His arms finally drop and he grasps her hands, bringing them up to rest higher around his middle as he holds onto them tightly. "But we weren't even dating anymore, Zoey. This was, just out of the blue… 'Charlie, my father gave this to me, and his father gave it to him, and now I'm giving it to you.' Why would he do something like that?"

"Because…" Zoey slips under his arm and swings around in front of him, "with or without me, my Dad loved you, Charlie. He always has. You impressed him, and he's not a man easily impressed, believe me." His gaze lowers with her praise and Zoey takes his face in her hands. "Whether he's ever said it or not, that's how he feels, and we all know it. Why do you think it was so hard for me to keep my distance, even when I was with Jean Paul? You were everything my father always wanted, and that's a hard thing to walk away from."

"I thought that's why you did walk away?" There is a tiny spark of mirth in his eyes and that delights her. Even in their darkest moments, Zoey always knows Charlie will shine through.

"Well, yeah, because who wants their Dad to be right all the time?" When she is done playfully rolling her eyes, Charlie wraps her up in a genuine embrace, burying his face in her hair.

They stand in the dining room, their arms tightly wrapped around each other for a long while. Zoey is about to suggest they try to get some sleep before the real fun starts in a few hours, but Charlie's next words stop her heart.

"I've let him down. I've let everyone down." The pain he feels flows through every syllable and it hurts her to hear them.

She pulls out of his grasp and pulls him to the chair at the end of the table. Zoey swipes her palm down along the side of his face before asking, "What are you talking about?"

"I told him… I promised him…" Charlie swallows hard, each word a trial. "I swore to him, that I'd never hurt you… That I'd never let anything hurt you again…even if it meant I had to stand in front of the bullet myself. But I failed."

"No." Zoey shakes her head with the force of her conviction. "No, no way. Charlie…" She grabs his arms and squeezes, "you haven't failed at anything. You did everything right. Ellie and I called Gina and got nothing more than an 'I'll look into it' because we didn't know what else to do, but you… You were hundreds of miles away and got on the phone to the right people and there were ten agents on our doorstep in fifteen minutes. You protected us with your wits, just like you always have."

"I called Josh, he took care of everything." Charlie's voice is distant, even though he is standing right before her. "I couldn't even get out of Canada until this morning."

Zoey huffs with exasperation and falls into chest, "Oh please! Even on Dad's best day, he couldn't change the weather over the Northeast in the winter to make planes take off in no visibility blizzards Charlie."

She relaxes into his embrace as he wraps his arms around her back. "Yeah, well..." He relishes in the moment of comfort as she feels the tension leave his body when his hand begins to stroke her back. "I would've flown the plane myself if they would've let me." She giggles into his chest with his joke.

"Yeah, I can believe that." Zoey looks up into Charlie's face and adds, "But we should probably try to get some sleep. The _little president_ is liable to be up extra early since he hasn't gotten up tonight."

Charlie stops her from turning out of his embrace and shrugs, "Nah, he was up earlier, so I changed him and gave him a bottle. Back to sleep in no time flat."

Her brow crinkles with confusion when she asks, "How did I not hear him wake up?"

The look on his face screams "busted" when he screws up his mouth and admits, "We might've been in the kitchen playing after you went to sleep."

Shaking her head, Zoey can feel the smile turning the corners of her mouth. "C'mon, 'let us to bed, that forthwith we may take our joy or rest beneath the spell of sweet sleep' for tomorrow is bound to suck."

A chuff of laughter leaves Charlie as he turns them out to the hallway. "You better not let your Dad hear you do that."

She shrugs off his admonishment, "Whatever… If Odysseus were here dealing with this crap, Penelope would totally agree what that suggestion."

"Oh, I'm definitely not disagreeing with you." He steps out of the way for her to climb the stairs ahead of him. "'Lady, we have not yet come to the issue of all our labours; but still there will be toil unmeasured,' the least of which will be the interrogation from the F.B.I. tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know." Zoey stops at the top of the stairs until Charlie stands right behind her, an arm draping around her shoulders. "We still have to talk to Dad." His groan is muffled by her hair when his head drops to her shoulder. "The greatest labour of all the ancient tales: my Dad."


	6. Chapter 6

**DATE:** April 2010

**AUTHOR:** LosingInTranslation (losingntrnslatn, Jennifer)  
**DISCLAIMER:** Don't own anything associated with the show… I just like playing with the characters in it from time to time. Dance Monkeys! Dance!  
**RATING:** T - Teen  
**FANDOM:** Crossover Fic between Criminal Minds & The West Wing  
**PAIRING:** CM = General Team & light Prentiss/Rossi - TWW = Charlie/Zoey  
**SPOILERS:** Through US Aired Episodes of Season 5  
**WORD COUNT:** 13,894  
**SUMMARY:** The BAU is called in by the Secret Service to profile an old case, once thought closed.

**DEDICATION:** To Ali for inspiring the story with her generosity. To Carri for getting me totally hooked on TWW again. And to Cheryl and Lisa for putting up with my insanity as I wrote.

**A/N:** This one is almost epic, but the request sort of demanded it. With Darth Real-Life constantly getting in my way, it took me a long time to finish this one. It was written by special request as part of the Help_Haiti LJ Comm.  
**REVIEWS:** Reviews are the way I know if people are enjoying the work or not. So, if you leave one, THANKS! And if not, I hope you found at least a little something to brighten your day, and thanks for taking the time to read.

**CHAPTER SIX**

Signing the paperwork being held by an assistant as he walks through the room filled with desks, Charles Young speaks at the same clip as his footsteps. "I hope you don't mind, but we're going to have to do this on the run. I missed a whole day yesterday and there's just too much going on to spend all day on this."

"You don't have the time to spare for your family?" Morgan is shocked by the man's apparent laissez faire attitude about their investigation.

"Excuse me?" Mr. Young stops only long enough to glare at Morgan before another folder is thrust in front of him. He looks down at the file and then addresses the assistant it belongs to, "No, send this back to the counsel's office and tell them I want that comma removed this time, before they promise to give two billion dollars in foreign aid money to a bunch of warlords on account of a typo."

His glare immediately finds Morgan again when he spits out his response, "My family gets all of my spare time, and some I can't spare, but you… _You_ don't get my undivided attention."

Hotch quickly steps up to try to soothing the man's anger. "Mr. Young, we need to be able to ask you some very sensitive quest-"

"You think the whole world hasn't heard your _very sensitive questions_ already?" He shakes his head as they begin to descend a flight of stairs. "My wife is the daughter of one of the most controversial and influential politicians in recent history. She's been shot at _and_ kidnapped, while her father was in office, no less. Our first dates made every newspaper in the world… What the hell do you think you can ask me that hasn't been asked a thousand times before, and lied about a thousand times more than that, Agent Hotchner?"

Morgan wants the man to know how serious they are, but as they climb down into what can only be described as the subterranean wing of the White House, he realizes that his words are probably meaningless. This man has stood behind the most powerful person on the planet, been privy to state secrets he could not even begin to fathom, and has been the target of more threats than Morgan could read about in a year.

Their questions probably are nothing in the face of a life like that. And yet, to do their job, they still need to ask them. But before Hotch can mount a reasonable argument in their favor, the man stops in front of two Marines standing post near the end of the corridor.

Mr. Young holds his hand out to Morgan and Hotch, but they are clueless to what it means. "Your badges?" They both reach into their pockets for their credentials when he stops them. "Those don't mean squat around here." He points to their chests and like a pair of trained monkeys they look down in unison to see their White House Visitor's Badges. They quickly remove them from around their necks and hand them to Mr. Young. The man, in turn, hands them to one of the Marines and simply says, "Bookbag."

With a click of their boots, the two Marines part and one turns the knob on the door they are guarding. It is an impressive, albeit intimidating display. Coming in on Mr. Young's heels, they find another set of stairs and they turn to walk down them behind Mr. Young. He stops and gestures to Morgan and Hotch when he says, "Gentlemen, Agents Hotchner and Morgan from the F.B.I."

They are struck dumb with the sight before them.

Seated behind the table in the middle of the room is a gray haired man with an ominously commanding presence, and coming to his feet on his left, a striking figure of a man buttoning his jacket as he waits for their approach. Both men nod subtly. "Agents, may I present Presidents Santos and Bartlet."

* * *

"I'm sorry, but there's just no way that anyone in my family, or any of our friends could be this insane." Zoey stands up, taking their empty cups and stacking them on the serving tray. "Crazy, sure. We've got a long standing and very well-known history of being out of our minds about a lot of stuff, but mostly when it comes to politics and human rights." She calls back over her shoulder as she walks toward the kitchen. "You know, defeating the King or standing up to terrorists, or telling congressmen to take long walks off short piers…but not racist, violent, obsessive stalker kind of crazy."

"Zoey, I know this is hard to swallow, but all the evidence is pointing this direction." J.J. tries to reason with the woman already banging around in the kitchen.

"I just don't buy it. I know these people and they aren't like that." Zoey continues to speak from the kitchen, leaving them at the table to mount their defense.

Emily, without worrying about the young woman's feelings, launches into the best line of argument she can conjure. "Is it anything like how you knew that kid at Georgetown who was busted for drug dealing three more times after you defended him?"

"That's not fair. He had a serious drug problem and I thought I was just helping an old friend." Her voice is muffled by the clanking of cups as she calls out from the kitchen again.

Going in for the kill, Emily delivers the final salvo, "And Jean-Paul?" The silence that follows tells them both that the message is driving home.

Zoey appears in the doorway with a solemn look pasted onto her face. "That's a really low blow, Agent Prentiss." Emily is on her feet in a heartbeat, ready to defend her comments and apologize for any offense. Zoey holds up her hand and closes her eyes shut. "No, it's okay. You've made your point and I understand. Just…" She stretches her neck to the side and opens her eyes. "Just give me a minute…and I'll answer your questions."

The young woman disappears into the kitchen once more, leaving Emily to deal with J.J.'s glare. "You shouldn't have gone there, Emily."

Emily shrugs guiltily and whispers back, "She needed to know…this isn't guess work. Rossi and Reid have already traced letters back to the Governor's mansion. But I guess I probably could've been a little more gentle."

Shaking her head, J.J. checks the messages on her phone. "To say the least."

After a couple minutes of uncomfortable silence, Emily is about to go to the kitchen to make a personal apology when there is a clatter coming from the front door. Before she or J.J. can speak, the commotion breaks into a roar.

They both stand, their hands immediately going to their side arms as they move into position in the hall while Emily tries to call up the agents outside the door. J.J. takes her stance at the entry to the kitchen, as Emily mans the opposite end on the corner leading to the front entrance. With a silent shush, J.J. motions for Zoey to stay out of sight.

With no answer from the forward agents, the front door blasts open and two agents come falling backwards, as they try not to trip over each other. Emily sticks her head out just in time to get hit with the commanding voice of one seriously pissed off woman. **"ZOEY!"**

Seeing the formidable Dr. Abigail Bartlet bulldozing her way through a handful of federal agents, Emily contemplates keeping her side arm out. But against her better judgment she snaps it back in place and gives J.J. the all clear.

"Would you get the hell out of my way? Where is my daughter? ZOEY!" The agents do their best not to be frightened of a five foot three inch, aging mother of three with a vicious handbag right hook. But as they continue to stumble and teeter out of her way, they fail miserably.

Zoey, with J.J. now out of her way, cautiously pokes her head out of the kitchen. "Mom?" The confused look on Zoey's face tells both of them that this was not a planned visit. "Mom?" Zoey steps into the hall and is finally granted a view of the rampaging woman charging toward her. "Mom, what are you doing here?"

Anything else she might be saying is muffled when her mother's arms wrap her up in an extremely protective hug.

* * *

"I won't keep you from the task at hand." President Santos nods to the young man hiding just out of sight at the top of the stairs. He reaches a hand out to Hotch, "Gentlemen… I hope I don't have to tell you that I consider this case a top priority. An essential factor for any of us to be able to do our jobs here is that we know our families are safe. If this kind of thing could have happened while President Bartlet and his family were in the White House, then the possibility exists it can happen again. Not only do I expect you to resolve _this_ case, but I want the gaps in our combined systems closed off…permanently." Santos is an imposing man under normal circumstances, but the way he squared his shoulders and lowered his brow to assert his point to Hotch makes him feel about three feet tall.

"That is our assignment, Mr. President." Hotch keeps his jaw even tighter than usual with his marshaled response. And just like that, the president and his cadre slip out of the room, leaving Morgan and Hotch alone with President Bartlet and Charles Young.

Morgan steps in and takes point when Hotch hesitates. "Sir, I'm not sure how much you know about the ca-"

With a wave of his hand, President Bartlet dismisses Morgan. "I was briefed by Director Toscano this morning and I had a very long talk with my son-in-law last night. I know as much as any of you at this point, so let's not waste time with pleasantries and protocol. I am here to answer any questions you might have while my wife attempts to convince our very stubborn youngest daughter to do the same."

Mr. Young holds the chair and the elder man's arm as he returns to his seat. "We decided that since you were looking back farther than I've been involved with the family, it was probably better if he was available for your questions. I wouldn't know much beyond the time I've spent with Zoey and the family."

Hotch quickly returns to the conversation, reaching out for a chair. "Thank you very much, Mr. President. We were concerned about having access to discuss this matter with you and your wife."

"And that's why we are here, under cover of night, and in the guise of visiting our granddaughter Annie for a private recital that does not exist." He pulls a pair of glasses from his coat and gestures for Morgan to pass him the file folder in his hand. "Your theory is that this has been going on since I was in the Governor's Mansion in New Hampshire?"

"Ah, yes, sir, it is." Hotch nods to Morgan and he hands the folder over.

"And this is based on what?" The elder man begins to examine the pages inside the folder with a skeptical eye.

"Our analysts have found matches to the threatening letters dating back to that time, sir." When Hotch looks over his shoulder, he finds that Morgan has chosen to match Mr. Young by choosing to stand back and observe from a close distance. He is unable to tell if it is due to a sense of competition with the young man, or if he attempting to profile him as a subject of interest.

"But all of the threats made against my family were thoroughly investigated."

"Yes, sir, but not all of the letters in question were threats. Many of them appear to be fan mail, if you will, letters of praise and encouragement, with a few bordering on obsessive. Taken individually, these letters mean nothing, but by tying them together, based on the information we have now, it paints a very clear and rather disturbing picture." Hotch waits for the man to leaf through several of the letters before making his final point. "In its entirety, sir, this shows us an organized, highly sophisticated, deeply obsessive personality. But more than that, it very clearly shows that this unsub is somehow connected to your inner circle."

"I am still finding that very hard to believe, Agent Hotchner. Gina tried to explain it to us when we arrived this morning, but it is a difficult pill to swallow." The man removes his glass as he shakes his head in disbelief. "To think that someone we hold in confidence could do such a thing, could even be capable of it…it's just beyond my realm of reasoning."

Morgan's attempts to stay back fail when he joins the conversation. "Sir, we may not be talking about your best friend, here. It could be someone that friend trusts, or that they talk to without thinking. But it is very clear that this unsub knows intimate details about your lives. Times, dates, activities that only someone close to you would have access to. Can you think of anyone that stands out as being maybe a little too interested in your daughter's life from when you were the governor?"

"Honestly, I really cannot even dream of anyone."

"Someone who asked a lot of questions? Someone who might have been too forward with your daughter? Anyone who might have made a possessive comment about her that set off an alarm for you, but that you dismissed immediately?" Hotch tries to draw the answer out with a barrage of questions based on their profile.

"There aren't many things that could be said about a man's daughter that wouldn't bring out the alarms for him, but for the life of me, I can't think of anything in specific." Hotch can see that the man is struggling to search his memories for the answer, but to no avail.

Morgan tries another tactic. "Mr. Young, can you recall, at any time, someone making comments about your wife that might have gotten your cowl up?"

"You mean, other than the press, or that crazy frog?" Morgan nods and the man appears to think about it more seriously. "I've been thinking about this all night, and truly, I can't think of anyone that really stands out. Yeah, there've been a couple creeps over the years, but-"

"That's what we're looking for." Morgan interrupts him, trying to make him understand what they want. "It doesn't have to be huge like the French guy, just something that made you feel like it was wrong. This person wouldn't stand out in a crowd, but they would give you the creeps, as you put it. And don't get hung up on gender. Man or woman, this person would fade into the background most of the time. Their confidence level won't allow them to shine. That's why they have to hide their true feelings in these anonymous letters. Why they have to get someone else to do their dirty work. It's why they may be totally inconsequential, but significantly attached to someone in your circle which is where they are getting the access these letters suggest. And they've been around a lot longer than you."

Morgan's last comment seems to have sparked some recognition for both men. Hotch immediately follows up, "You have someone in mind?"

* * *

"This is ridiculous. There is no one in our circle capable of setting into motion the series of events you believe this person has wrought. It's impossible." Dr. Bartlet had been railing with the same cry for nearly an hour and everyone was growing very tired of it.

"Dr. Bartlet, maybe you would like to take a break?" J.J. did her best to separate the mother from the daughter, but it proves fruitless.

"I don't have much time left before we have to fly back to the farm and escape scrutiny. Tell me what your plan is to catch this deviant and protect my daughter and her family." She was indeed a formidable woman, and Emily could see why her own mother had said so on several occasions. But this was not the time for her to invoke the rights of a protective mother. They need to catch this unsub before their obsession with Zoey Bartlet-Young reaches its disastrous peak.

Emily pushes the bangs aside and rubs her forehead for a moment, attempting to keep her cool in the face of her attack. "Dr. Bartlet, with all due respect, Ma'am… Your daughter is the most well-protected person on the planet at the moment, but in order to keep her that way, we have to discover the identity of her stalker. This person is not going to be satisfied until she belongs to them, whatever the cost, even if that cost is her life. So, please…if you really want to help protect your daughter, we need you to think." When she stops, Emily can see that the impact of her words has gotten through.

Taking a deep breath and forcing it out in a rush, Emily goes back to explain. "Ma'am, I'm not trying to frighten you. I just want to find this person and stop them. So, I need you to think…is there anyone in your past who stands out as being a little too concerned about what Zoey is doing from day to day? Someone who asked a lot of questions? Someone who might have been too forward with Zoey when she was younger? Anyone who might have made a possessive comment about her that set off an alarm for you, but you dismissed it as being ridiculous?"

"Members of the press, a few hangers on over the years, but I can't think of anyone who specifically set off any alarms." Dr. Bartlet appears to be searching her memory for a viable answer.

Emily then turns to Zoey. "Was there anyone who just made you feel wrong? It doesn't have to be huge and obvious, just something that didn't feel right. This person isn't going to stand out in a crowd, but they'll give you an uneasy feeling. And don't consider gender in your answer. Man or woman, this person is likely to fade into the background most of the time. Their lack of self-esteem isn't going to let them shine. They're hiding themselves in these anonymous letters, because their fear of rejection is so high. That's why they have to get someone else to do their dirty work." She can see the wheels turning for both women as Emily delivers the profile of their unsub.

"It's why they may be totally inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, but they might be significantly attached to someone in your circle, which is where they are getting the kind of access these letters are suggests. And they've been around a long time. Maybe even since your childhood. And as they've watched you grow, their interest has increased. They might have even attempted to engage you a time or two, but you probably felt very awkward about it and shied away from the attention right off the bat. This person probably retreated from you at that point and-" Emily stops when the two women jerk their glances to one another. "You have someone in mind?"


	7. Chapter 7

**DATE:** April 2010

**AUTHOR:** LosingInTranslation (losingntrnslatn, Jennifer)  
**DISCLAIMER:** Don't own anything associated with the show… I just like playing with the characters in it from time to time. Dance Monkeys! Dance!  
**RATING:** T - Teen  
**FANDOM:** Crossover Fic between Criminal Minds & The West Wing  
**PAIRING:** CM = General Team & light Prentiss/Rossi - TWW = Charlie/Zoey  
**SPOILERS:** Through US Aired Episodes of Season 5  
**WORD COUNT:** 13,894  
**SUMMARY:** The BAU is called in by the Secret Service to profile an old case, once thought closed.

**DEDICATION:** To Ali for inspiring the story with her generosity. To Carri for getting me totally hooked on TWW again. And to Cheryl and Lisa for putting up with my insanity as I wrote.

**A/N:** This one is almost epic, but the request sort of demanded it. With Darth Real-Life constantly getting in my way, it took me a long time to finish this one. It was written by special request as part of the Help_Haiti LJ Comm.  
**REVIEWS:** Reviews are the way I know if people are enjoying the work or not. So, if you leave one, THANKS! And if not, I hope you found at least a little something to brighten your day, and thanks for taking the time to read.

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Emily just finishes debriefing with the U.S. Marshals when she heads back to the unit. The case was closed, and the rest of the team had already packed it in for home. Everyone else was gone, everyone but Rossi.

Staying behind to get the final report from the Marshals was Emily's excuse to hang back when the others left for the night. She knew Dave would never leave until it was done, until the subject was in custody and locked down. As they suspected, the subject immediately invoked his right to council, so there would be no chance to interrogate the man. Dave would have to find his closure from another avenue. That appeared to be filling out all of the paperwork for transferring the case file to the U.S. Attorney's office in the morning.

That is where she finds him, elbow deep in files and forms in the BAU briefing room. Standing in the doorway for a moment, Emily watches him struggle through a chain of evidence form. His brow furrows a little deeper than it did the week before, and the lines around his eyes appear a little more prominent. This case has been hard on him and it hurts her to see him suffering so much.

She decides to make her presence known when she says, "Hard to believe this guy was operating all this time from inside the family like that."

Rossi keeps his gaze on the paperwork before him when he responds to her, "Most likely, he would have continued to operate that way, but his brother's separation was about to sever the connection to his obsession."

She tries to use a little humor to break him away from the forms. "Yet another strike against marriage; you can't choose your in-laws."

It works and backfires on her at the same time. He looks her right in the eye and sternly says, "You don't get married for the in-laws, you do it in spite of them, because you love the other person that much." His answer takes her breath away.

Awkwardly, Emily steps forward and attempts to hide her discomfort by boxing up some of the documents laying out on the table. As she reaches for one of the evidence inventory forms, Dave anticipates her need and holds it out for her. Taking the form, Emily is looking for something to say, but she only manages to squeak out a "Thanks."

What follows can only be described as an uncomfortable silence. Before Emily can work up the courage to try again, their silence is interrupted by the appearance of the Director Toscano. "This is going to be a tough one to close out."

Dave looks up and asks, "Has he been processed?"

"Yeah, he's in a holding cell in the Devens Federal Medical Center up in Massachusetts on suicide watch." She pulls out a chair and drops down into it. "The family is a total wreck, but at least the guy is in custody now."

"I can't imagine what they must be going through right now." Emily shakes her head as tries to wrap her brain around the facts of the case.

"Chad Weston was never on anyone's radar. He was just Liz's husband's weird little brother." Director Toscano pulls the tie out of her hair and lets it fall. "The only indication anyone ever had there was something wrong came from Zoey. I guess when they were getting ready for her sister's wedding, Chad made some inappropriate comments to her and she just decided to keep her distance from him."

"A perfectly logical act for a young girl." She can see Dave working out the details in his head as he speaks. "Did she mention the incident to anyone else?"

The director nods, "Yeah, she told her older sister Ellie. And, in true sisterly fashion, she shared the experience with someone who would tell their parents, in order to remove any guilt from herself. The girls' godmother shared the information with the Bartlets, who had already gotten an uneasy impression of the young man. There wasn't a lot they could do, he was just the brother of their new son-in-law, so the likelihood of any further interaction was very limited. They trusted their daughter's instincts and made sure to limit her contact with him even further."

"Which inadvertently triggered his obsessional spiral." Emily would never cease to be amazed at the deranged behaviors of their subjects. "The initial relationship with Charlie probably interfered with his delusions about his connection to her, and as public as it was, plus his race, afforded him the perfect opportunity to engineer his elimination by using the skinheads."

"The CSU team actually found a coffee mug with the West Virginia White Pride emblem on it. Along with the printer, countless press clippings and family photos of Zoey. They also found several items we believe may have actually been Zoey's, but we have to wait for her to calm down before she can identify them." The director appears disgusted by the information she shares with them. "But we'll have to wait until the courtroom to hear a word from this guy. He's clammed up tighter than a bank vault."

"Well, he's had time to think about this. Reid found a few more letters which he used to get the actual location of their home in Georgetown." Dave hands her the folder containing the letters in question. "His brother's separation has slowly been eating away at his access to their lives. So, when Elizabeth Weston filed for divorce, he knew it was all about to come to a devastating end. Desperation is the only thing that would convince him to fall back on the previous tactics, because they had been successful before."

Director Toscano stands up from the table shaking her head. "We can speculate all we want, but without him we'll never know what really motivated this guy. The only thing that matters now is that we have the evidence necessary to put him away for a very long time, and the Bartlet family never has to worry about Chad Weston ever again."

Dave leans back in his chair and sighs. "Between the analysis of all the correspondence and what your CSU team unearths, plus making the connection to the assassination attempt perfectly clear…I can't see this guy ever knowing freedom again."

"The only wild card is if he tries to cop an insanity defense." Emily frowns at the prospect, but the director is not finished. "But with your unit's testimony, and the connection to the assassination, there's just no way he'll ever get out of that hospital, even if a jury does manage to give him insanity." She walks around the table until she can put a hand Dave's shoulder. "This one can finally be moved into the win column, Uncle Dave. You and your guys did good."

"Thanks, Gina. You should probably get home and get some rest." He pats the hand she is resting on his shoulder. "I'm sure you're going to be doing a lot of briefings tomorrow, starting off in that funny shaped room." When he looks up at her, Dave gives a playful wink that brings a smile to the director's face.

The director turns to leave, but before she walks through the door she stops to regard Emily with her parting words. "Make sure he doesn't spend all night getting paper cuts, will ya?"

The knowing look on the director's face brings a slight blush to Emily's cheeks as she nods her head in agreement.

Once the woman is clearly out of sight, Emily turns to Dave and says, "You heard the lady. Let's get this packed up, so I can take you home."

"And you would be doing this why?" Dave's cocked eyebrow always makes her smile, but it can also stir up other emotions, depending on its use.

However, Emily simply begins putting the remaining files into the box beside her as she explains. "Because you haven't left this room in almost two days, you're in no shape to drive, your truck is still parked at my place, and if I don't keep a very close eye on you, I just know you'll start messing with these case files again."

Dave shrugs off her reasoning, but he also continues to put the files away. "Well, there is that…"

After they seal up the last box and sign the label, Emily walks to the coat rack and takes their overcoats down, draping them over her arm. As she turns around to wait for him, Dave is standing right there, with his hand reaching past her for the light switch. "Shall we?"

She furrows her brow and tries to put on a scowl when she says, "I'm still driving."

The tone of his voice drops into smooth and deep rhythm, "I have never complained about that." Her laughter is the response that finally brings a smile back to his face and it makes her glad that neither of them has to go home alone.

When the reach the elevator, Dave slips the coats from her arm and helps Emily into hers before shrugging into his own. The doors open and he touches the small of her back to gesture her into the waiting car. They turn into the elevator and Dave presses the button to go down when Emily asks him, "So, _Uncle_ Dave?"

He chuckles as the doors close and says, "That's a very long story."


End file.
